


Your Smile Warms Me (Like Central Heating)

by Lollopy



Series: Coffee Shop AU [3]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-16 02:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollopy/pseuds/Lollopy
Summary: It’s snowing. Actually snowing. Actually, properly snowing in London on Christmas Eve. Ben wouldn’t believe it, except he’s out in it and he’s very aware that it’s actually, properly snowing. He’s almost regretting turning down the glittery earmuffs Lexi had offered him on his way out, except he’s on the way to surprise Callum and it’s not really the look he’s going for.Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and 27th December (it makes sense, I promise) in the Coffee Shop AU.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Series: Coffee Shop AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543585
Comments: 16
Kudos: 115





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to wait to post this in December, but that would mean another few weeks of me staring at it and tweaking it and fiddling about with dialogue. And this is already the eighth draft of this. Title is from an actual, legitimate Christmas song.

It’s snowing. Actually snowing. Actually, properly snowing in London on Christmas Eve. Ben wouldn’t believe it, except he’s out in it and he’s very aware that it’s actually, properly snowing. He’s almost regretting turning down the glittery earmuffs Lexi had offered him on his way out, except he’s on the way to surprise Callum and it’s not really the look he’s going for.

An hour and a half ago he’d been at home, half-watching _Oliver!_ with Lola and Lexi and considering yet another glass of Bucks Fizz. But then he’d got a text, a selfie of a bored-looking Callum in reindeer antlers, complaining that no one was looking to buy coffee on a snowy Christmas Eve and could Ben check on Google and see if there was a law against working on the 24th?

_At least you’re in the warm, as much hot chocolate as you want… xx_

_I don’t want hot chocolate, I want to be at home. I’m so bored xx_

_How long have you got left? xx_

_Closing at 7, 4 hours left :( :( :( xx_

So that was how Ben found himself, at half-past four, slipping his way along to pavement to the coffee shop. A bus would be great, but every time he stops at a bus stop to check the countdown screen it’s at least 15 minutes away and he doesn’t fancy catching pneumonia, so he carries on. He’s only fallen over twice, after all.

When he does finally reach the shop, it’s the only one on the parade with its lights on, and Ben can see through the window that the place is deserted. The only person inside is the man leaning against the counter, playing with some of the paper cups and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Multi-coloured, twinkling fairy lights are draped over every cupboard and window frame, twisted around lengths of tinsel that Ben had helped Callum put together a few weeks back. There’s a huge, inflatable snowman propped up in the corner, and snowflakes stuck onto the windows. It’s ridiculously tacky, and if this is how it had looked back in October, Ben’s not sure he would have stepped inside.

Ben pushes opens the door and he’s hit by a blast of Christmas music and warm air, which only lets him know exactly how soaked through he’s got on his journey over here. His feet, miraculously, are dry, but the rest of him feels damp and his ears are stinging painfully. Still, as sappy as it sounds, the look on Callum’s face when he sees Ben makes it worth it.

He grins widely, dropping the cups he’d been busy stacking into a pyramid, and darts from around the counter. Ben gets a brief kiss, the heat from Callum a welcome contrast to his own ice-cold skin, but Callum’s already pulled back before he can properly enjoy it.

“God you’re _freezing_ ,” he says, rubbing Ben’s arms briskly, then reaching down to squeeze Ben’s hands in his own.

“It’s snowing,” he says dumbly, which makes Callum laugh, which makes Ben laugh. Oh, he is in _deep_.

“Come on.” He tugs at Ben’s hands, pulling him along with him until they’re in the back room. Ben knows there’s a comment he could make here, something to make Callum turn red, but the weather must have slowed down his brain and all he can do is stand there staring while Callum rummages through a rucksack. “Here, put this on.” He throws a bundled up brown hoodie at Ben, who shakes it out and takes a look at it. There are wide felt eyes and a fluffy red nose on the front, and when he inspects the hood he finds two plush antlers sewn onto the top. Lexi would love it. He’s not at all shocked that it’s part of Callum’s wardrobe of ugly jumpers.

His fingers, unsurprisingly, don’t want to cooperate with the zip on his coat, and in the end, Callum bats his hands away and deals with it himself. “What are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you said you were at home watching films?” Callum asks as he hangs the coat up on the rack next to his own.

“I was,” he says as he pulls his arms through the sleeves of the jumper, breathing in the scent of coffee and fabric conditioner and Callum as subtly as he can. “And then you sent me that picture of you looking all sad and pathetic…” He shrugs, trying to look casual, like he hasn’t walked half an hour through snow to get there. “Felt sorry for you, didn’t I?” The smile Callum gives him is so painfully open and sincere it almost makes Ben feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” Callum says, quietly. He reaches out and fiddles with the collar of Ben’s shirt, straightening it out, then pulls out one of the strings of the jumper that had got caught inside the hood. “You didn’t have to. How long are you here for?”

“Well I was just going to stay long enough for you to make me a coffee but you’ve gone and taken my coat hostage now, haven’t you?” Ben says, feeling a bit more like himself now he’s got the feeling back in his face. Callum rolls his eyes and heads back out into the shop, Ben trailing behind him.

“Come on.” He drags one of the stools from the high tables by the window and places it in front of the till. He gestures for Ben to sit then goes back to his usual position behind the counter. “You can’t have a coffee on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s probably for the best. I may have had a drink or two before I came here,” he adds, pulling a face.

“It’s not even five yet,” Callum points out with a tinge of disapproval in his voice but Ben waves the comment away.

“It’s Christmas, it doesn’t count. You ain’t meant to have chocolate for breakfast, neither, but…” Callum doesn’t look completely convinced but lets it go.

“You have to have a Christmas _flavoured_ coffee, at least.” He pulls a mug out from under the counter, the chipped and faded Dad's Army one that belongs to Callum. Every time Ben sees it, STUPID BOY blazoned across the front, he wonders about the father who thought this was a good 'congratulations on your career change' present.

“You mean those cinnamon flavoured monstrosities I’ve seen people carrying away from here all month?” he asks, turning his nose up. “No, ta. I’ve lasted until the 24th without trying one, I’m not ruining my streak now.” The other man clearly isn’t paying attention to him because he’s already fiddling with the machine, taking a plastic tub messily labelled ‘magic dust’ down from the shelf. “Callum, no, please, I beg you. I’ll do _anything,_ ” he says in a quiet voice, trying for ‘irresistibly seductive’, but Callum carries on making the drink. Ben hangs his head with a sigh; he’s losing his touch.

“Go on.” Callum nudges the drinks across the counter towards him a few minutes later. It’s covered in whipped cream and something that looks like glitter. “It’s peppermint. Barely anything to do with Christmas at all.” Ben makes an effort not to look at the jar of candy canes for sale next to him and, reluctantly, picks up the mug.

It is, annoyingly, very nice.

“Thank you, again,” Callum says as he locks the door a few hours later and pulls the flimsy-looking shutter down. “I don’t think I could have stood there and listened to ‘Last Christmas’ by myself one more time.”

“Well. Anytime you need saving...” Ben stands there, hands in his coat pockets, not wanting to turn and leave but not knowing what to say to keep the moment going, either.

Callum reaches out and pulls the hood of the jumper Ben is still wearing up and over Ben’s head. One of the antlers flops over the front and bounces against his forehead, and Callum pushes it back with a laugh. Then his hand trails down to cup the back of Ben’s neck, and Ben leans up to meet Callum in a kiss that almost makes him forget he’s standing in a doorway in the wind and the slush in a damp coat, at least half an hour away from the warm and dry.

“You were a very good early Christmas present,” Callum says with a shy laugh when he moves back slightly, their noses still brushing.

“Well, so was your jumper,” Ben answers as his fingers dig in below Callum’s ribs to stop him going back any further.

“Am I not getting that back?”

“Oh, yeah, course,” he says, darting forward to steal another kiss. “You’ll just have to come round and get it, that’s all. Like… Friday, if you’re free?”

“Come round to yours?” Callum asks, sounding almost hesitant.

“Yeah. Could introduce you to a few friends, go out for a couple of drinks… You could stay over if it gets too late,” he adds with a grin. Callum looks down at his feet as he smiles, a little idiosyncrasy Ben has already become very partial to, and when he raises his head again he’s nodding.

“Yeah, I think that sounds good.” He steps back when something over Ben’s shoulder catches his eye. “And that’s my bus. I’ll text you later,” he says, squeezing Ben’s hand as he hurries off down the road before the driver abandons him in the cold. Ben stays to watch him board, fumble to get his Oyster on the yellow reader, actually speak to the driver, and finally disappear up the stairs.

When the bus is gone (his own is still, as always, 15 minutes away), Ben turns to go back in the direction of Albert Square. It’s still snowing but thankfully the wind has stopped so it’s not quite as miserable as it had been on the way over. A few roads away from the shop, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. There’s already a text from Callum waiting for his attention - _This bus does_ not _smell of Christmas :( xx_ \- but he’ll come back to that later.

 _Drinks on Friday?_ he types out to the group chat he’s got with Jay and Lola, even though he’ll be seeing them both anyway when he gets home. _Someone I want you to meet._


	2. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know that episode of ‘Vicar of Dibley’ where she eats like, five Christmas dinners and by the end, she’s just crawling along the road? That’s how I feel. I’m going to explode.” Callum sounds happy but exhausted on the other end of the phone, and Ben can’t help but smile.
> 
> “Had a good day with the Kennedys then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to make this Christmas fic into three parts instead of just the one-shot - Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Friday 27th. The last bit should be up before or around Christmas Day.

It’s only just gone ten when Ben makes his way to bed. Between watching his dad’s marriage break down in the middle of the Square first thing, listening to Ian complaining about having to stretch his carefully planned meal out to feed one more, and Lexi being her usual tornado of energy, he’s ready to sleep for a good 12 hours. At least.

But Callum’s due to call him at any minute, so he forces himself to stay awake, listlessly scrolling through Twitter until his phone finally vibrates in his hand.

“Hey,” he answers quietly, well aware of house’s thin walls. "Happy Christmas." He sits up, drawing his knees up to his chest under the brushed cotton duvet. It’s tartan and hideous, and every time he tries to throw it away it reappears in the airing cupboard.

“You know that episode of ‘Vicar of Dibley’ where she eats like, five Christmas dinners and by the end, she’s just crawling along the road? That’s how I feel. I’m going to explode.” Callum sounds happy but exhausted on the other end of the phone, and Ben can’t help but smile.

“Had a good day with the Kennedys then?” Callum lets out a laugh that turns into an unhappy groan.

“She won’t stop cooking, Ben. She’s making me up boxes of leftovers to take home, and I’m still here for one more night. Chris says it’s my fault for being too likeable.”

“I knew there were downsides to being a goody two-shoes,” Ben says smugly. He takes off his glasses and looks at the blurry fairy lights Lexi had put up around the window frame at the beginning of December. “You’ll have to bring some with you. We had lamb.”

“ _Lamb_?” Callum repeats after a pause.

“I know. My brother decided to be ‘adventurous’.” Sixteen miles away, not that Ben looked it up, Callum makes a noise of suspicion and distrust. It’s eerily similar to the noise Lexi had made when her plate had been put on the table in front of her.

“I thought you said you were at your dad’s for dinner today.”

“Lola kept badgering me to change my mind. And then…” Ben stops, chewing at his lip as he wonders how much to tell Callum. “My dad and his wife had an argument yesterday. Cancelled everything.” He can almost see the way Callum rolls his eyes. Maybe he should have suggested FaceTime so he’d know for sure. He could find out what awful Christmas pyjamas Callum’s been wandering around in for the past two days. Not that he has a huge interest in Callum’s pyjamas, exactly.

“Everyone argues at Christmas. Don’t mean you have to call off dinner, or everyone would starve.”

“Yeah well.” He picks at a loose thread on the duvet cover. “This was less ‘how did you forget to buy the stuffing?’ and more ‘what do you mean the baby’s not mine?’”

“Oh,” Callum says, slightly awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“S’alright. Worse things have happened round here at Christmas.”

“Still. Suddenly getting a call from the landlord asking me to come and collect Stuart off the pub floor don’t seem so bad…” Ben snorts down the phone.

“Did you?”

“ _No_. I’m not trekking from Pinner to Mile End when the Tube’s not running just because he can’t hold his drink.”

“He’ll be happy with you when he sees you,” Ben says around a yawn.

“More reason to stay away then.”

In the darkness of his bedroom, Ben tightens his hold on the phone and forces himself to say: “If you want to stay there with Chris for a bit longer instead of coming on Friday-”

“No, don’t be stupid,” Callum cuts him off. “I’m looking forward to it. And seeing you.”

“You only saw me yesterday.”

“Yeah well. It’s all these soppy Christmas films we’ve been watching today, making me miss you already.”

“Oh yeah? And how much do you miss me?” he teases, but Callum just laughs.

“ _No_.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I’m standing in their conservatory!”

“So have an _early night_.”

“I’m sleeping on the floor by Chris’s bed.”

“... Bathroom?” Ben offers in a last-ditch attempt to get his way. Not that he’s particularly earnest, really. He’s heard Ian walk past his door twice already and he has a feeling his brother banging on the door and asking what he’s doing would ruin the mood a bit. And he really _is_ tired.

“You’re terrible.”

“You-” He starts, before snapping his mouth shut. ‘You love me really’, he nearly said, like an absolute _idiot._ That’s exactly what a relationship that’s barely two months old needs… 

“‘I’?” Callum prompts.

“You can’t be too surprised,” he says instead to cover his tracks. “Phoning me up late at night when I’m already in bed…”

“I didn’t know you’d be in _bed_. It’s not even eleven.”

“This is what happens when you’ve got a kid,” Ben says. “Someone let her have a nap during the Queen’s Speech, it was like she’d got new batteries.”

“I better let you get some sleep then.” He nods, even though Callum can’t see.

“Alright.”

“Vicky’s waving at me from the kitchen anyway, I think there’s more food going around. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, course. Night.”

“Night,” Callum says quietly before he hands up, leaving Ben to listen to the beeps that tell him the call’s been disconnected.

He lets the phone drop, nudging it across to the other side of the bed. It’ll be dead in the morning, but he’s too lazy to scrabble on the floor for the charger. He doesn’t need an alarm anyway; at some point tomorrow morning someone will walk in unannounced with a cup of tea and a sarky comment about sleeping the day away.

He buries his head deeper into his pillow, trying to get comfortable. He can only imagine how fun Saturday morning’s going to be with Callum there. His mum introducing herself, Ian’s little digs, Lexi looking up at him and demanding to know who he is and exactly why he’s in her house… Ben needs to move out. But he lives in zone 2, and cheap flats near Albert Square are all but nonexistent. Business has been good lately, but not that good.

What he needs, Ben thinks as he tries to work out which of his neighbours outside is shouting to another about the Christmas bin collection, is everyone to disappear for a little while. Just leave him with an empty house for a day or two.

But who’s leaving the house at Christmas? No one’s going to go further than the Vic for the next few days. In fact, the only cars he’s seen move on the Square today were - 

Sharon’s.

Then Phil’s.

He sits up and grabs at the bedding, trying to find his phone in the darkness. Eventually, he does, and after he puts his glasses back on, he starts to flick through his recent messages.

There it is. Like a reverse roll call, the occupants of 55 Victoria Road each telling him they’ve left the house for the foreseeable. Sharon is en route to Portugal with Denny, Phil chasing after her, while Louise is back with her mum.

The place is empty. He has the keys.

It’s a Christmas miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to stick to canon as closely as possible for Ben's backstory but his 'I must defend Phil's honour' schtick going on at the moment is just not working for me/this version of Ben so I've chosen to disregard it. In this AU their relationship is more of an uneasy truce than anything else.
> 
> Callum, on the other hand, has been given a wonderful surrogate family in the Kennedys. Chris's mum loves him. She cried when they broke up.


	3. Friday 27th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they’d agreed was that Jay and Lola would go to the pub for three-ish to get a table before the Friday night, post-Christmas, pre-New Year rush started. Ben would go to the station to collect Callum (and his four boxes of Christmas dinner leftovers, which Ben was looking forward to), take him back to the Mitchell house to leave his bag (and properly store those leftovers in the fridge), and then take him to the Vic where they would all be on their best behaviour. They’d have a few drinks, maybe something to eat, and leave before the singing competition started.  
> Callum would think his friends were great and, most importantly, completely normal, and he and Ben go home and work their way through the food in the fridge. And then, afterwards, that to-do list Callum had messaged him after a few drinks on Boxing Day night that had kept Ben up until the early hours.

When Ben’s phone _pings_ with a text message for the eighth time in 20 minutes, he does what he’s done the other seven times. He ignores it. If it was important, if there was an emergency or something, it’d be a phone call, wouldn’t it? So he feels no guilt in letting Jay or Lola or Dottie or whoever it is wait a bit longer for a response.

It’s probably Jay. And to be fair to him, Ben is… He looks around the room for a clock, to see exactly how far behind schedule he is, but the one on the wall is out of battery and the one on the desk is hidden by clutter. The darkness in the sky outside tells him it’s probably not half-past three anymore though.

What they’d agreed was that Jay and Lola would go to the pub for three-ish to get a table before the Friday night, post-Christmas, pre-New Year rush started. Ben would go to the station to collect Callum (and his four boxes of Christmas dinner leftovers, which Ben was looking forward to), take him back to the Mitchell house to leave his bag (and properly store those leftovers in the fridge), and then take him to the Vic where they would all be on their best behaviour. They’d have a few drinks, maybe something to eat, and leave before the singing competition started.

Callum would think his friends were great and, most importantly, completely normal, and he and Ben go home and work their way through the food in the fridge. And then, afterwards, that to-do list Callum had messaged him after a few drinks on Boxing Day night that had kept Ben up until the early hours.

In theory, it was a perfect plan.

In theory.

“Someone’s popular,” Callum says, dropping Ben’s phone on the bed between them when it goes off once again. Ben takes the opportunity to stare shamelessly at the smooth expanse of Callum’s back as he settles back down onto his stomach with one arm folded under the pillow. The other he throws haphazardly over Ben, his fingers drumming over his ribs.

“It’s just Jay,” Ben says, scrolling through the many messages. “Oh, we are _so_ late.” The nails idly scratching over a scar on his side come to a stop.

“‘Late’? What do you mean, ‘late’?” Callum demands, suddenly looming over Ben, all wide eyes and flushed skin. “I thought we weren’t meant to be there until tonight?” He laughs, reaching up to fiddle with the short hair at the back of Callum’s neck.

“No, what made you think that? We were supposed to drop your things here and go straight over. You,” he says, raising his eyebrows and going for an expression somewhere close to innocent, “were the one getting all handsy the second the door was closed.”

“But I asked if we had time and you said we did. ‘Yeah, _loads_ of time’, remember?”

He does remember saying that. But he also remembers that Callum had been tugging Ben’s shirt out of his jeans at the time, panting out hot breath against his ear, and really his dad could have been halfway through the kitchen door and Ben still would have said the same.

“Oops?” he offers insincerely as he tries to tug Callum closer. But he slips out of his grasp, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor.

“We should get going.”

“What? _No_ ,” Ben whines, making half-hearted grabs for the man gathering his scattered clothes from the bedroom floor. “They’ll be in the Vic for ages yet. They don’t care when we get there.” Callum stops what he’s doing to throw him a disbelieving look.

“And that’s why he’s been calling you non-stop?”

“He’s just… very needy,” Ben says, sitting up and trying to sneak a look at how much clothing Callum’s got packed away in that rucksack. He’d only said about staying the night but the car lot won’t open again until the new year and he’s sure Callum said the same about the coffee shop… He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a t-shirt hitting him in the face. It’s lucky he’s not wearing his glasses or they would have gone flying too.

“Come on,” Callum says, staring down at him and managing to look very authoritative for a man wearing only his boxers and one sock. “Up.” Ben flops back down on the bed, arms sprawling outwards. His phone digs uncomfortably into his back and he hopes he doesn’t accidentally call someone. Honestly, you accidentally leave Ian one graphic voicemail and he’ll never let it go… 

“Considering this is the first chance we’ve had to actually be alone for more than twenty minutes, you seem very eager to leave,” Ben says, and Callum grimaces. Twice they’ve made it back to Callum’s tiny studio flat. Twice they’ve been interrupted early on by his brother, Stuart, paying a surprise visit. If it happens again Ben’s going to check the place for cameras. “You could hurt a boy’s feelings, saying something like that.” He says it sarcastically, without any malice, but the look of impatience vanishes from Callum’s face anyway. He sits back down on the edge of the bed and fiddles with the corner of a duvet barely covering Ben’s modesty.

“I’m _trying_ to get your friends to like me.”

“They’ll like you whether you’re there in 10 minutes or two hours.” He rubs Callum’s arm gently with one hand. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. If they ask where we’ve been, I’ll take the blame. You’ve got such an innocent face, I reckon they’ll go for it.” Callum laughs at that, bashful, and then he’s leaning over him again for another kiss, and another, and another, and another. Grinning again Callum’s mouth in victory, Ben arches up, pushing their hips together until Callum breaks away with a noise that’s almost a whine in the back of his throat.

“The sooner we go, the sooner we get back,” he says shakily. And, unfortunately, Ben has to admit that it’s a solid argument.

“... Fine. Fine. Go shower, I’ll tell them we’ll be there soon.” He pushes Callum away with a reluctant hand on his shoulder before fishing around underneath himself for his mobile.

 _We’re on our way_ , he texts Jay. _Hope you’re happy._

Callum’s head pops back around the doorframe.

“Um… Where _is_ the shower?"

“Two doors that way,” Ben says, waving his hand to the left, and Callum disappears.

 _Ecstatic. See you in five_ , Jay’s reply says on the screen. Which seems a bit presumptuous, really. Almost rude, some might say… 

“Hold on,” Ben shouts out, hopping out of bed to grab his towel off the radiator. “I’ll have to show you how it works, it’s a bit complicated.”

“How complicated is it going to be?” Callum calls back, but he’s laughing.

 _More like thirty_ , he quickly sends back to Jay, forgoing a line of inappropriate emojis in favour of following that laugh down the hallway. When Jay’s expletive-ridden reply eventually arrives, the phone’s abandoned on the bedside table, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this did not get posted on or around Christmas Day like I said. Apologies. But we got there in the end!  
> This does seem really short - originally this was a longer chapter, more angsty, and Jay nearly ruins everything by getting completely wankered on mulled wine and saying the wrong thing, but I want Christmas to be happy and fluffy. Maybe Easter can be angst-ridden instead.


End file.
